


Theft

by Eione



Category: Original Work
Genre: Forced Orgasm, Innocence, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Shame, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-30 21:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19412065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eione/pseuds/Eione
Summary: Ikarios has been raised in strict purity, destined to someday offer his virginity to his god. When the temple is raided by bandits, he is forced to learn everything he was ignorant of before.





	Theft

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sattsuma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sattsuma/gifts).



Ikarios stood in his place by the altar as the high priest chanted the prayers in his sonorous voice. They were almost at the end; Ikarios carefully gathered a pinch of incense in his hand, ready to scatter it over the holy fire at the proper time. Though he knew the prayers by heart, he listened conscientiously, speaking each line silently in his mind as the high priest chanted them aloud.

The high priest took a breath, but the expected next line did not follow; instead, one of the other priests burst into the room in frantic haste. “Bandits!” he said hoarsely. “Leukippos saw them riding up the hill. They look like raiders from the north.”

There was an uneasy murmuring; some of the younger priests clutched each other’s sleeves or whispered to each other. The high priest frowned slightly. He did not stir in his place or speak a word, but such was his air of authority that the room fell silent. When everyone’s attention had returned to the god’s altar, he drew in a breath and, without rushing, recited the closing lines of the prayer. He glanced toward Ikarios. When Ikarios stood motionless, he cleared his throat.

Ikarios started and released the incense, letting it fall into the fire. Fragrant white smoke curled upward. The high priest raised his hands in the formal gesture to mark the close of the ceremony. Then he turned back towards the others, his manner changing.

“Now,” the high priest said in a clipped tone. “All of you here, gather up the sacred vessels of gold and silver and pack them up safely. Theokrates, warn the others, but without panicking. Ikarios, I will entrust these things to you.”

Before he knew it, Ikarios was handed a heavy, clanking sack. “Take it to the caves near the holy spring,” the high priest instructed. “Hide them well, and stay there.” His brows furrowed with concern. “These northern barbarians have no reverence for what belongs to the god. Now go!” For a moment, it seemed he would forget himself enough to push Ikarios’s shoulder, but he merely gestured urgently towards the small door behind the altar. Ikarios slung the sack carefully over his shoulder and ran.

Ikarios took a winding path through the woods behind the temple. He was out of breath by the time the sacred spring came in sight. Even in his haste, he remembered to kneel down and scatter a few drops of water for the god. Lifting the sack again, he entered the cool darkness of the cave.

It wasn’t difficult to tuck the sack of holy vessels out of sight behind an outcropping of rock. Ikarios sat down, his knees drawn up to his chest, and watched the faint light filtering in from the cave’s entrance. His heart was beating very fast, and he tried to calm himself by reciting the hymns. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what might be happening in the temple. Would the bandits steal everything they could find? Smash the god’s holy altar? Even slaughter the priests, if they couldn’t find the treasure they sought?

At the thought, Ikarios jumped to his feet. He was nineteen and a man, even if he had been kept sheltered as a chosen sacrifice. He couldn’t just hide here; if his temple brothers were in danger, it was only right for him to share in it. He nervously straightened the pleats of his robe, adjusted his golden girdle so that the tassels were exactly even, and whispered a quick prayer to the god for his brothers’ safety. Then he started back along the path towards the temple.

He had gone barely halfway when he rounded a bend in the path and almost ran into a stranger. They stared at each other, then the stranger laughed aloud. “So! I thought I had missed the chance at plunder, and here a prize falls right into my lap. I should thank the god of this temple after all.”

A bandit, Ikarios thought, and swallowed. The stranger was a blond barbarian with an unkempt beard and wisps of hair escaping from his long braids; he stood a full head taller than Ikarios and was far broader at the shoulders. He stood in a relaxed pose, one hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword.

Ikarios wanted to run, but his legs felt shaky. He straightened and tried to keep his voice even, trying to imitate the high priest’s calm authority. “Stranger, this is a holy place. I serve the god. Will you let me pass?” He could hear his voice waver in spite of himself.

The bandit grinned and came forward. “What will you give me to let you pass? This belt, maybe.” He reached out and grabbed Ikarios’s girdle, holding him in place. Ikarios could feel the massive knuckles pressing against his belly. He swallowed again.

“Don’t touch me,” he warned. “I belong to the god. You are a foreigner, so perhaps you don’t know. This white robe and the golden girdle with two tassels mean that I am the god’s chosen sacrifice.”

The bandit did not release his grip. “A sacrifice? You mean they’ll slit your throat on that altar?”

“No! The sacrifice is, is my purity.” Ikarios could feel himself blushing. “I have been raised for the god since childhood. Once every year, the priests in all the temples cast lots to see which of the sacrifices will be chosen, and the favored one is blessed with the holy marriage and gives his virginity to the god.”

The bandit scoffed. “To some priest, you mean, who wears the robe of the god to enjoy virgin flesh. I’m only surprised they can wait so long.”

Ikarios felt his cheeks heat. He lowered his eyes modestly, trying to regain his composure, but he could see where the bandit’s large hand still held him by the girdle. It made his stomach twist oddly. “There’s nothing like that. It’s a true holy sacrifice. I believe in the god.” He looked up nervously. “And so, you must let go of me. Not even the high priest is allowed to touch me.”

“Do you at least . . .?” He made an unfamiliar gesture. He had let go of Ikarios’s girdle, but he was still blocking the way. Ikarios glanced longingly at the path toward the temple, but he didn’t think he could run past him.

“I don’t understand,” Ikarios stammered.

The bandit laughed again. “I meant touch yourself, you little innocent. Stroke your cock in bed at night.” His voice made it sound like something dangerous and filthy.

“No!” Ikarios said, shocked. “Of course not. I told you, my purity is kept for the god.”

The bandit’s grin widened. “It seems I’ve found a treasure after all. And you’re as pretty as a girl. I want to see your face when you come for the first time. Unless you’re lying about that. No man could be that pure. Do they make you a eunuch?” He reached toward Ikarios; surely he wasn’t going to pull his robe up and check?

Ikarios backed away. “I’m not a eunuch,” he said with what dignity he could muster. The bandit took two large strides toward him and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling Ikarios close to his body. He smelled of sweat and horses and old blood. Ikarios had never been so close to another person since he was a small child. He struggled, but the bandit’s greater strength held him easily, his arms pinned at his sides.

The bandit gripped Ikarios’s chin in his other hand, forcing Ikarios to look at him. His fingers pressed hard against Ikarios’s lips. Ikarios bit him.

The bandit swore and let go, shaking his hand. “You little—!” He struck Ikarios across the face with the flat of his hand. While Ikarios staggered, the bandit gave him a hard shove. Ikarios fell to the ground in an ungraceful tangle of limbs.

The bandit leaned over him, pressing one hand down on Ikarios’s chest. “Behave yourself,” he growled.

Ikarios shivered. He could only nod, his eyes wide. His cheek was still stinging from the blow. He lay on his back on the sun-warmed ground. Grass was tickling the back of his neck. The bandit seized hold of Ikarios’s girdle and untied the knot with a firm tug. He unwrapped it entirely from Ikarios’s waist and tossed it aside before Ikarios could recover from his shock.

“S-stop,” he stammered. “You can’t—” Not heeding his protests, the bandit took hold of his legs and tilted Ikarios’s hips up as if he weighed nothing. He shoved Ikarios’s white robes upward, leaving Ikarios naked below the waist, his most private parts completely exposed to whoever happened by.

Ikarios felt the blood rush to his cheeks. He wrapped his arms over his face, trying to hide himself. He tried to curl his legs in too, but the bandit still held his calves in a firm grasp, and Ikarios struggled in vain. Worse, the bandit spread his legs apart even further, lifting them up again to take a long lingering look, as if it pleased him to see Ikarios exposed this way. “Let go,” he said frantically, his voice muffled behind his arms. “Don’t look at me, don’t, you can’t!”

“And why can’t I look?” The bandit’s voice sounded amused. “You should be grateful to me. That’s far too pretty to be left unused.”

Ikarios tried to tug free again. “I don’t understand! What’s pretty?” What could be pretty about those parts that were so shameful that he was forbidden to look at them or touch them except when he bathed? “You can’t look,” he said in a small, miserable voice. “No one is allowed to look, not even the high priest. I belong to the god.”

The bandit’s grip slid upward, the warm calloused hands pressing against his thighs. Ikarios shivered suddenly. To his horror, he felt his cock twitch, beginning to rise. No, he thought frantically, not now! He let out a shuddering breath. When that happened, the high priest had told him, he was supposed to recite hymns to the god until the affliction went away. It had always worked before, even though it sometimes took multiple recitations. “Lord of the mountains and the shady groves,” he whispered, “who—whose hand—”

The bandit was pushing his robes up higher, until his chest was bare. Ikarios lowered his arms a little to peek out. The bandit had a lazy smile on his face, but his gaze was strangely intense as he met Ikarios’s eyes. Ikarios froze.

“Move your arms,” the bandit ordered. Ikarios shook his head and wrapped his arms around himself still tighter.

The bandit gave a small shrug. “As you like.” He reached for the neck opening of Ikarios’s robes, took hold of the cloth, and ripped it open with effortless strength. He lifted and moved Ikarios as easily as if he were a doll, until Ikarios’s arms were free and he lay naked atop the ruins of his clothing. His cock twitched again. Ikarios hoped desperately that the bandit hadn’t noticed, but the bandit’s eyes traced down along his body to where his cock was unmistakably poking up.

The bandit grinned, displaying crooked teeth. “You like this, don’t you?” Ikarios started to say that he didn’t, he didn’t like it at all, but the bandit reached familiarly between his legs and gripped him there, wrapping his large hand around Ikarios’s cock and balls. His grip tightened until it was just short of painful.

Ikarios caught his breath in a shocked gasp. No one had ever touched him there before. It felt nice being held like that, he thought hazily, and immediately he blushed again with shame. Ikarios swallowed. His cock was stiffening still more, rising into the bandit’s grip and pushing against his fingers like a dog being petted. Why wouldn’t it stop?

The bandit gave his cock a quick stroke, which made him shiver again with how good it felt. Then the hand withdraw, but only long enough for the bandit to spit into his hand. Ikarios wrinkled his nose in distaste at the vulgarity, but then the bandit’s hand closed around his cock again, wet and hot from his mouth, and Ikarios’s hips arched upward before he could stop himself.

The bandit slid his hand back and forth over Ikarios’s hot shaft with firm strokes. To his shame, a moan escaped him. He blushed even hotter and turned his head away, tried to slip away from the hand that was doing such shameful things to him. The bandit’s left hand seized him under his chin, turned his face back towards him, and then the fingers of his left hand were hooked in Ikarios’s mouth. Ikarios could see the flushed head of his cock appearing and disappearing within the bandit’s great hand, and it felt—it felt so good, and he was already past the point of his furthest arousal before, when he had once woken flushed and hard from a dream that he tried not to remember. The bandit’s fingers were pressing against his tongue, almost stroking it, and somehow that felt good too. Ikarios found himself sucking on the intrusive fingers, making shy motions with his tongue. He moaned again more loudly, and flushed with shame. He had to stop, before he betrayed the god and violated his sacred purity. But there was no escape from the hand that stroked and rubbed him so intimately or the fingers in his mouth. Every motion made his cock grow harder and hotter. Ikarios tried desperately to recite hymns in his head, but he couldn’t think of a single word. He was shaking, his body straining towards an unknown goal like a bowstring being drawn back, and the bandit’s hands continued to violate him with unwanted pleasure. In spite of his shame, he was moaning desperately, muffled against the bandit’s fingers, and his hips were jerking, pushing into the stroking hand for more, more, and not even his horror and shame at himself could make him stop.

Every inch of his skin felt hot and sensitive; even the breeze that dried the sweat on his bare skin felt like another stroking hand that made him shiver. The head of his cock was slippery and wet; he could feel hot liquid dribbling down. His breath came in gasps. The fingers in his mouth held him in place so that he couldn’t look away, but had to watch everything that was being done to him and his body’s shameful surrender. His cock was so hot, hard and aching, and every firm stroke was wonderful and horrible, bringing him closer to the edge of something, and then one more stroke and Ikarios arched off the ground with a muffled scream as hot pleasure tore through him. His cock was pulsing, spurting hot liquid over his stomach and chest, and he shook and shook, helpless to stop it or hold back.

He slumped back in a daze, unable to comprehend what had just happened to him. His body was tingling pleasantly; his limbs felt as weak as new shoots. The bandit released him, and he was able to breathe, sucking in great gulps of air.

As the haze of pleasure began to recede, shame took its place. He was unworthy of the god. His body had done _that_ ; he had betrayed his sacred oaths and violated the purity that belonged to the god. He became aware that the bandit was stroking his thigh, horribly familiar. Ikarios wanted to move away, but he still felt completely limp.

The bandit chuckled. “That really was your first time?” Ikarios turned his face away.

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere.” Again, his face was forcibly turned back to look at his captor. The bandit’s voice was hoarse. “I’m going to use every part of you, your pretty mouth and that tight virgin ass.”

Use them how? Ikarios could not guess. What had been done to him was already beyond anything he could have imagined.

The bandit’s calloused fingers rubbed roughly against his lips. Somehow that felt good too, Ikarios thought in despair. The bandit let go of him and sat back. Ikarios turned his head to watch; his stomach clenched with nervousness. He wanted to brace himself for what would be done to him next, but his mind drew a blank.

The bandit was unfastening his own belt. He pushed up his tunic, pulled down his barbarian trousers. And there was the bandit’s cock, flushed and stiff and rather bigger than Ikarios’s. The bandit straddled Ikarios’s body with his muscular thighs and gripped Ikarios’s long curling hair to pull him over. He tugged him into position until Ikarios was close to the bandit’s groin, the hot tip of his cock pressing against Ikarios’s lips.

The bandit made a satisfied sound. “Now suck. And don’t bite, or I’ll cut your balls off.”

And then the bandit’s cock was pushing into his mouth. Ikarios had never imagined such a thing. His lips strained around the thick shaft. He gave a tentative suck, and the bandit gave a quiet groan from above him. “Mmm, that’s right. You have such a pretty mouth. Take more, I know you can.”

Ikarios was unwilling, but the bandit’s hands in his hair held him firmly in place. He had to do it. Or else the bandit wouldn’t stop. Maybe if Ikarios did this, then the bandit would be satisfied and let him go, and this nightmare could end. He sucked more firmly on the hot end of his cock, as he had earlier on the bandit’s fingers. The bandit leaned forward, pressing more deeply into his mouth. “Lick it,” he said hoarsely. “Rub with your tongue.”

Ikarios was hot with shame. He closed his eyes and did his best to obey the bandit’s instructions, trying not to think about what he was doing. The bandit was groaning and panting. His thighs clamped closed around Ikarios. To his horror, Ikarios felt his own cock stir again. The more he sucked and licked at the hard hot thing in his mouth, the more his own cock began to rise and fill.

The bandit was thrusting into his mouth in hard jerks. Without warning, he leaned forward, pushing down and in, the hard shaft of his cock pressing into Ikarios’s throat. Ikarios choked, retching involuntarily. He struggled frantically to push the bandit away, but strong hands held him in place. His nose was pressed against musky dark hair, and the bandit thrust hard into his throat again and again, grunting as he thrust. Ikarios couldn’t breathe and couldn’t escape. He whimpered involuntarily. He was beginning to grow dizzy from lack of air. And somehow his cock had gotten completely hard, flushed with blood and straining against his body.

Finally the bandit pulled out and abruptly let him fall, letting his still-hard cock slip from Ikarios’s mouth. Ikarios curled up in a ball and hungrily gulped in air. He was trembling, his cock still uncomfortably hard.

“I’m not done with you,” the bandit said hoarsely. “I didn’t come in your mouth, because I still want to fuck you. Do you even know what that means? You were so eager for my hand on your pretty cock and my cock in your mouth. I bet you’re going to love this.”

Ikarios no longer tried to resist. He let the bandit uncurl his body and arrange him as he wished, bent nearly double on his back with his knees pressed against his chest. Then there was something cold and wet and slippery dripping over his skin, in the cleft between his buttocks. Fingers were pressing against him—there? Why there, in the hole for defecation? Two large fingers breached him, covered in something slippery so that they pressed in. This was a new humiliation; Ikarios had never dreamed anyone would touch him there, inside. He felt vulnerable, opened up, but the bandit’s other hand on his thigh held him in place. The fingers inside him stroked him, thrusting and pushing farther in. Every touch sent a new jolt of pleasure through him. He was desperate to escape, to stop the heat rising inside him.

Then the fingers withdrew. He took a breath in relief, but almost immediately something else was pressing in. Ikarios’s eyes widened. It was too big, too thick, but it forced its way inexorably into his flinching flesh. Each time he thought it couldn’t possibly go any deeper, it pushed in still more. Ikarios whimpered quietly and felt tears come to his eyes with pain and humiliation. He was pierced, helplessly spitted on the hard length.

The bandit was leaning over him, trapping Ikarios’s body with his own. Ikarios could smell his sweat. “Do you like that?” the bandit asked hoarsely. “Do you like having my cock inside you?”

Ikarios felt tears well up in his eyes. “Please,” he choked out. “Please, it’s too much. I can’t.”

The bandit groaned. He pulled back until only the tip of his cock remained inside and pushed in again. Ikarios sobbed quietly as he felt the pain of being stretched open and penetrated all over again. The cock inside him was hot and pulsing, a strange and foreign intrusion. It should only have been bad, but his body clenched down on the hard length inside him as if something in him craved being filled like that, wanted it even more and deeper. His own cock was so hard; everything was growing hazy except the need to have more of this shameful pleasure. Then the bandit adjusted his angle and began to thrust into him. Ikarios’s breath came in sobs, and his eyes filled with tears. It wasn’t only that it hurt, but somehow, horribly, it felt good at the same time, like having his cock stroked but so much better. Every thrust into his aching body sent a jolt of mixed pain and pleasure through him. The bandit thrust into him hard and fast, over and over; he couldn’t catch his breath, only tremble and endure the assault.

He felt heat and pleasure building inside of him, the same drawing back of the bowstring, and once again he was helpless to stop it. He was making small sounds with every thrust into him; the bandit’s grip on him was iron-hard and somehow that felt good too, being held down by strong hands. Ikarios’s cock was dripping onto his stomach, twitching and aching for release, but he could only endure until finally the bandit gave another hard thrust and pleasure crashed over him again, even more overwhelming than the first time. Ikarios gave a small cry as his cock spurted messily over him. The bandit kept thrusting into him, even when it was too much. Ikarios felt sore and oversensitive; he could only let himself be used, until finally the bandit’s body stiffened and his cock swelled inside Ikarios, filling him up in hot spurts.

The bandit withdrew and let him go. Ikarios slumped down. Exhausted tears spilled from his eyes. He was trembling and overwhelmed with what had happened to him. Hot slippery liquid was dripping from his abused hole down over his thighs. He had been used in ways he never imagined possible, had unwillingly surrendered to the assault. Surely, surely there was nothing more?

But even then he was not left in peace. The bandit lay down beside him and pulled Ikarios into his arms, Ikarios’s back pressed against his broad chest. “You loved that, didn’t you,” he murmured. Ikarios could feel the rumble of his voice through his chest. “Such a waste, to leave you untouched all these years. Your body so eager and hungry, so desperate to be fucked and filled up with my cock. Did it feel good when I came inside you?” His hand traced over Ikarios’s thigh, in the wet mess he had left there. Ikarios shivered. Such filthy things! He closed his eyes and tried to shut out that low, dark voice.

He opened his eyes again with a sudden jolt. The bandit was—he was sucking on Ikarios’s neck, his mouth hot and wet. How could that feel good too? He weakly tried to push the bandit away, but he continued, sucking and licking at Ikarios’s throat and jaw, scraping his teeth along the place where the pulse beat under his skin. His hands slid over Ikarios’s chest. Ikarios whimpered quietly. How could his body still respond, still want this? He took hold of Ikarios’s nipples then and rolled them between calloused fingers. Ikarios had never thought about his nipples—they were simply there, not a very interesting part of his body. But as the bandit twisted them and pressed them in his strong fingers, Ikarios found his body arching in response. The bandit continued playing with his nipples until Ikarios was gasping and moaning, and then he moved his hands elsewhere. It seemed everywhere on his body became an unexpected source of shameful, pleasurable betrayal. The bandit’s mouth sucking on his earlobe, his large hands squeezing Ikarios’s buttocks, his tongue thrusting hot and demanding into Ikarios’s mouth, his hands stroking over Ikarios’s arms, his thighs, his feet—every part of his body was touched, stroked, sucked until Ikarios’s head was spinning and he was a whimpering, shaking mess of hazy arousal.

The bandit was hard again, his hot erection pressed against Ikarios’s backside. He thrust his cock into Ikarios again, fucking him lazily and stroking Ikarios’s oversensitive cock until Ikarios shuddered weakly and spilled again over his own stomach and thighs.

Ikarios was too exhausted to move once the bandit finally released him. He lay without moving while the bandit pulled up his trousers again, hiding from sight the huge cock that had tormented him so. The bandit looked down at him and laughed. “I don’t have any gold or silver to carry away this time, but I won’t complain about my share of the spoils. When you go to pray in your temple, thank your god for this!” He turned away and strode down the path toward the temple, and then he was gone.

Ikarios was left limp and exhausted and sore, lying atop the crumpled ruin of his robes. He stank of sweat and other, unfamiliar things. What had come out of him was drying on his belly; what the bandit had left inside him was trickling slippery and hot down the inside of his thighs. His skin was covered with bruises from the grip of the bandit’s fingers and the marks left by his hot mouth; it seemed like every part of him had been touched and tainted.

It was a long time before he could move. Finally he was able to sit up. Shivering, he attempted to pull his torn robes around him. He saw then that the bandit had stolen his golden girdle as a final trophy. The loss of his purity made him ache, but worst of all was the knowledge of what his body could be made to do, all the ways it could be forced into shameful pleasure. Would the temple even take him back, now that he could no longer be the god’s sacrifice? Anyone looking at him would know what had happened. Even if the physical marks were gone, Ikarios could not imagine pretending to be innocent.

It was another humiliation, that he would be found like this and seen by everyone. But he felt too weak to walk, and there was nowhere else he could go. The high priest knew he was here and would send someone to look for him eventually. He slumped back to the ground, using the ruined robes as a blanket, and waited to be found.


End file.
